


v. poisoned

by tempestaurora



Series: it's okay, we're okay [whumpvember 2018] [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Fluff, Food Poisoning, Gen, Poisoning, Whump, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 07:28:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16530137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempestaurora/pseuds/tempestaurora
Summary: Peter collapsed onto the closest bed and groaned into the duvet.“Stomach ache, kid?”“Yeah,” Peter said a moment later, turning his head to breathe. “I think it’s the sushi.”“I said we shouldn’t buy gas station sushi,” Tony replied.“But Iwantedgas station sushi."





	v. poisoned

**Author's Note:**

> in the fic three, i made peter help tony sleep, now it's the other way around.

Tony’s Audi was just about the most comfortable thing Peter had ever been in. It was like floating along on a cloud. The engine was nothing but a purr and the outside world was muffled behind the classic rock station Tony had tuned the radio to.

Outside, the sky was dark and the street lights glowed yellow. Headlights flashed and flew past in the opposite direction, and a sea of brake lights shone up ahead as they soared down the highway.

Peter glanced over to Tony, who was singing a Black Sabbath song under his breath in time to Ozzy through the speakers. They were coming back from Cambridge, Massachusetts, where the two of them had toured around the MIT campus and Tony had pointed out all his favourite places. For the open day, Tony had even been wrangled into giving a speech that Peter had watched, just as enraptured as the other hundreds of prospective students that had filled out the lecture hall.

It was Tony’s idea to drive there, rather than take the plane, if only because they had a few free days to spare, and (secretly) the two of them could spend more time together before Peter moved away for college in less than a year’s time.

Tony looked over to Peter, feeling the gaze on the side of his head. “You alright, kid?”

Peter hummed and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. My stomach feels weird but it’s nothing much.”

Tony frowned then looked back to the road ahead. “Let me know if it gets worse, alright? We’re almost at the hotel. Maybe crack open a window – let some fresh air in.”

Peter did as he was told and rode out the strange feeling in his stomach. He mumbled the lyrics to the songs he knew, he half-heartedly napped in the passenger seat and smiled to himself as Tony sang loudly to the songs he loved.

It was around one AM they pulled into the hotel and grabbed their bags from the back seat. Peter trudged up the stairs behind Tony into a brightly-lit lobby of plush cushions and gaudy patterns. Peter knew somewhere in his mind that this was an expensive hotel, just like all the hotels he’d stayed at with Tony, but it still looked like an old woman had thrown up.

Peter made it a point never to look up the prices of the things Tony bought for him. Some things, like the hotel, were, as Tony claimed, _because I’m not sleeping in a motel, kid, they have rats_ , and Peter couldn’t feel bad about it if Tony was so insistent it was for his comfort as much as the kid’s. Other things, like the StarkPhone in his back pocket, or the Stark Watch, only five of their kind and one of which on Peter’s wrist, he _could_ feel a little bit worse about.

Tony checked them in and Peter followed him up to their room – two beds and a large plasma screen television mounted above a fireplace. Peter collapsed onto the closest bed and groaned into the duvet.

“Stomach ache, kid?”

“Yeah,” Peter said a moment later, turning his head to breathe. “I think it’s the sushi.”

“I said we shouldn’t buy gas station sushi,” Tony replied.

“But I _wanted_ gas station sushi,” Peter huffed, indignant.

For the past month he’d had a weird sushi kick after the first time he’d had some at a fancy Stark party. He was probably the youngest one in the room and he’d frowned at the naked lady lying on a table, sushi laid out across her body as if she were the plate, and the party guests not even blinking, just choosing their food from the display. Pepper had laughed at his wide eyes and confused expression, said that there were a few people at the party they needed to impress and apparently, they were suckers for what she called _Nyotaimori._ Across the room, there was a naked man in the same situation and Peter had avoided the tables entirely until Tony had passed him, pressing a plate of sushi into his hands with a rolling of his eyes.

Peter didn’t think he was going to like it, but apparently it was his new favourite food, and he was eating it every chance he got. And that included gas station sushi, much to his regret.

“Listen, I’ll make a deal with you,” Tony said, dumping his case on the floor and shrugging off his jacket. “Never eat gas station sushi again and I’ll _hire_ a sushi chef to come to the compound once a week. Okay? You get your fix and you don’t get food poisoning.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “This isn’t food poisoning.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Peter hummed a positive and then abruptly stopped. There was a feeling he was acquainted with, in which he knew he was about to vomit. Peter leapt up from the bed and rushed into the bathroom, unloading everything he’d eaten for the past day into the toilet bowl. When he was finished retching, he looked up to Tony’s smug face as he leant against the door frame.

“Not food poisoning, huh?”

Peter just stuck his head back in the toilet.

Tony had him drink more water and get changed for bed, as well as brush his teeth to get rid of the acrid scent of vomit. Peter showered, trying to make the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach subside, and by the time he returned to the main room, Tony was lying on his bed in sweats, watching the two AM news on a low volume.

He glanced up when Peter entered, watching as the kid flopped into his bed and pulled the duvet all the way up to his ears.

“Feeling any better?” Tony asked, and Peter at least appreciated the _mild_ sympathy in his voice.

Peter scrunched up his nose. “I don’t feel like I’m about to puke,” he supplied.

“Well, that’s better I guess.”

For a while, with the lights down low in their room, Peter listened to the newscaster talk about the kind of fluff news that was reported on at two AM. Tony watched the screen with half-hearted interest and the room was the comfortable, warm kind of quiet. Eventually, the television flicked off and the light vanished entirely.

“Night, kid,” Tony said, quiet.

“Night, Mr Stark,” Peter mumbled in response.

And he tried to sleep, _honest._ But his stomach was still rolling around inside him, tipping precariously and letting anything he had left fall this way and that. It was distracting and Peter was just watching the digital clock click over and over because there was no way he was sleeping with this kind of discomfort in his body.

He huffed when the clock hit three and rolled over, tuning in to the sound of Tony’s low, slow breathing. Peter had been in the same room with a sleeping Tony Stark enough to know the difference between his peaceful sleep and that of nightmares, and he counted the moments between breaths, checking they weren’t too fast and feeling satisfied by the slow rhythm to them.

At four AM, when Peter was almost asleep but still too far from actually falling, he heard Tony’s breathing change, like he woke up, heard the way his head shifted across the pillow. There was silence, before Peter called out in a whisper, “You awake?”

A beat or two then a sigh. “Yeah, kid… Have you slept at all yet?”

“No. My stomach still hurts. Hey, did you know that if you take four specific courses at MIT, you can become a certified pirate?”

Tony snorted. “What do you think Rhodey and I spent our time doing third year?” he asked and Peter shifted suddenly.

“No _way._ You’re a certified pirate?”

He could hear the smile in Tony’s voice. “Archery, fencing, pistol shooting and sailing. Rhodey and I set a few records that year.”

“Oh my god,” Peter whispered, grinning despite the ache. “ _Captain_ Stark.”

Tony scoffed and the room fell quiet again, Peter thinking about the possibility of a future at MIT ( _Captain_ Parker) to avoid thinking about how bad his stomach was hurting.

“You think so loud,” Tony muttered. “Go to sleep.”

“Would if I could, Cap’n.”

Tony’s exhale was long and sigh-like. “Are you one of those kids that need warm milk or something? Seriously, kid, I don’t want you to sleep tomorrow away.”

Peter smiled and moved onto his back to stare at the faintly visible ceiling – even it was decorated in gaudy patterns. “May has a firm belief that people playing with my hair makes me fall asleep,” he replied. “But I think she’s lying. That or this Italian lullaby she used to sing to me when I was little?”

“Which one?” Tony asked, quiet.

Peter pursed his lips, trying to find the lyrics in the recesses of his brain. “Uh, it goes _fai la ninna, fai la nanna,_ uh, _con’sto fialio_ something something.”

“ _Con’sto fialio non c’é piú pace_ ,” Tony provided.

“You know it?”

“Maria Stark was nothing if not an Italian lullaby enthusiast.” There was quiet for a moment, and then Peter heard the shuffling of Tony climbing out of bed. A moment later, the side of his bed lowered and Tony pulled a cushion against the headboard, so he could sit up, his legs stretched out.

Peter didn’t say anything, just rolled onto his side to face him.

“Go to sleep, Peter,” Tony said, quiet, and Peter shut his eyes at the feeling of Tony’s hand, gentle in his hair. The motion was repetitive and soothing, and Peter was considering phoning May and agreeing that she was right about it making him fall asleep, when he heard the family lullaby under Tony’s breath. The tune was just the same as when May used to sing it, her voice lilting just right and Tony’s deeper, quieter but just as peaceful.

In the end, he couldn’t help but fall asleep. His stomach was still rolling but there was a restful calm everywhere else; one that only Tony had been able to give Peter for a long while.

When he woke up in the morning, he could hear the shower thundering away, see the light peeking through the curtains and Peter smiled. On the hotel notepad, sitting next to Peter’s phone on the bedside table, Tony had written _new rule: no gas station sushi._

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!
> 
> pretty please talk to me in the comments!
> 
> (the lullaby is called ninna nanna, you can find it on youtube, it's SUPER calming and apparently its a very popular lullaby so it's not weird that a partial italian and peter with his italian aunt both know it)
> 
> (i saw that pirate thing on tumblr somewhere and i LOVE the idea of tony and rhodey going out to get certified as pirates)


End file.
